


ever yours with all my heart

by tristesses



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Canon Era, Cunnilingus, F/F, First Time, Sexual Experimentation, Sibling Incest, Vaginal Fingering, Virginity Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-09-02 17:54:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8677225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tristesses/pseuds/tristesses
Summary: Angelica will never be satisfied - but she'll do anything to satisfy Eliza.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt "Hamilton: Angelica/Eliza, virginity and experimentation."
> 
> The title comes from one of Angelica's [letters to Eliza](http://schuylering.tumblr.com/post/148223331206/angelica-church-to-elizabeth-hamilton-1794).

_I will never be satisfied._

The words ring in her head as Eliza slowly strips out of her dress. Off goes the gown, then the panniers, set to the side, and finally the petticoats, the loose piles of fabric quickly gathered by the maid so they don’t crease. She’ll have to put it all back on, after all; this is only a final fitting of her wedding dress. Now she stands there in her chemise and stays, radiant with joy. She beams at Angelica and Angelica smiles back. 

“You look beautiful,” she says. “Alexander’s a lucky man.”

“I’m not even in the dress yet,” Eliza says, blushing. But while it’s true the dress is beautiful, that’s not what Angelica was referring to; no, she meant Eliza, Eliza with her lovely flushed skin, flawless, her dark hair arcing down her back like a waterfall. 

“Oh, I didn’t mean the dress,” Angelica says, and snickers when Eliza blushes even redder. Angelica’s eyes follow her flush from her face to her finely-made clavicle to the tops of her pert breasts; when Eliza’s embarrassed, she goes red all over. Angelica likes that. Maybe a little too much. At times, she finds herself looking at Eliza and thinking very unsisterly thoughts. _Immoral_ thoughts.

And, as the maid unlaces Eliza’s stays to exchange them with her wedding pair, more intimate aspects of her beauty are revealed: the slim curve of her breasts and hips, the round buds of her nipples, peeking out through the sheer chemise. Angelica averts her eyes (her mouth waters, she wants to touch Eliza, she is _deviant_ ), and tries to remember the flow of the conversation.

“Martha,” Eliza says to the maid, “you can go now. Angelica can help me from here.”

“Oh, I see,” Angelica says as Martha ducks her head and leaves the room. “Sold me into indentured servitude as a ladies’ maid, have you? Eliza, I’m heartbroken.”

“Oh, hush,” Eliza says, flapping a hand at Angelica. “I just—I have a question for you.”

She stops there, hesitant, and Angelica says, a little perplexed, “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“Yes, of course,” Eliza says. She scrutinizes herself in the mirror, her back to Angelica; Angelica watches her reflection, and can’t quite read her face. “Come help me with these stays, will you?”

“…all right,” Angelica says slowly. She heaves herself up from the couch she’s sprawled upon—truly, these skirts are verging on the ridiculous—and goes to her sister. They do this all the time, she and Eliza, slipping into their gowns in the mornings in their shared dressing room, lacing each other up as they chat. Eliza would smooth Angelica’s curls behind her ear, sending shivers up her spine, and Angelica would brush Eliza’s hair for her, one hundred strokes for each side to make it shine. They’re close that way, the Schuyler sisters. Closer than sisters. Close as lovers.

They won’t be able to do that anymore, once Eliza is a married woman. Married to Alexander Hamilton, no less, a husband that could have been _hers._ Angelica feels a stab of jealousy, and she isn’t sure if it’s for Eliza or for Alexander. It’s a petty feeling, quickly washed away by regret. She wants them both, she realizes with a shock; wants them both, and in the same way, no matter how moral or immoral it may be. ( _I was right; I will never be satisfied._ )

Up close, Eliza is even more exquisite. Angelica pauses for a moment, stays in hand, to admire her from behind—she had never understood why men were so fascinated with the female derriere, but with Eliza…

No. Shoot that thought where it stands; give it a mercy killing. Angelica shakes her head slightly, and slides the stays below Eliza’s raised arms.

“You take the front, I’ll do the back,” she says, their old arrangement. Deftly, she laces up the back of the stays, careful to keep her fingers from skimming the sheer linen of Eliza’s chemise. As if Eliza could sense her perversity—and it _is_ perversity, technically, although Angelica’s feelings of guilt are dubious—though physical touch. Angelica can smell her scent, no perfume, just clean hair and skin; she can feel the heat radiating from her body. She wants to undo her work, take off the stays, run her hands down Eliza’s sides, caress her lovely breasts through her chemise, plant kisses down her neck.

She doesn’t, of course.

“Now,” she continues, “what were you going to ask me? I doubt it was just to lace up your stays.”

Eliza stays mute with a mulish expression. Angelica stifles a sigh. This is not their usual dynamic; usually Angelica is the one with the secrets, and Eliza the one who patiently waits her out, until she breaks and spills all. Angelica isn’t used to playing this part, but she will. She finishes lacing the back of the stays, tying the loose ends expertly, and immediately wraps Eliza in a hug so big she squeaks in laughter.

“Eliza,” Angelica says into her neck (imagines pressing kisses there— _no_ ), “you are my sister, and you can tell me anything in the world. What’s wrong?”

Eliza stills. Gently, she places her hands over Angelica’s, folded around Eliza’s midsection.

“Anything?” she asks quietly. Bewildered, Angelica nods. Eliza takes a deep breath.

“I know you’ve kissed the stable boy before,” she says. Angelica stiffens, but there’s no judgement in Eliza’s tone, just tenderness. “And I know about Lydia.”

Now _that_ makes Angelica start in surprise. Lydia was a secret she always meant to keep, a flirtation with a friend when she’d officially entered society a few years ago. It wasn’t serious—Angelica is serious only about Eliza—but it _had_ been educational. And, as established, meant to be a secret. What must Eliza think?

“It’s all right,” Eliza reassures her, grasping her hands tighter when Angelica makes to pull away. “I don’t think even Peggy knows.”

“Where are you going with this?” Angelica asks warily. Eliza pauses, then, to Angelica’s surprise, turns in her arms until she’s face-to-face with Angelica. Cradled to her chest, their breasts brushing against each other. So close their mouths nearly touch in a kiss.

“I want you to show me,” Eliza whispers. Her breath is warm on Angelica’s face. “I want you to show me how to touch myself, so I can show Alexander on our wedding night.”

There are no crueler words Eliza could have spoken. To be reminded that she can’t have the two people she loves most—not truly, not have them all to herself—but of course, Eliza doesn’t know how she feels. She couldn’t know how she made Angelica feel.

“You’ve never done it before?” Angelica manages to reply, after a couple stalled tries as Eliza grows noticeably more nervous.

“Not really.” Eliza shakes her head. “I’ve tried—“ Her blush returns with a vengeance, and this time Angelica is close enough to look, _really_ look—“but I never managed to…”

“Come,” Angelica fills in, her throat dry. “The word is ‘come.’”

“Yes,” Eliza says, a little nervous, a little shy. “Will you—“

“Are you sure?” Angelica interrupts.

Eliza looks her in the eye and nods once. Angelica licks her lips.

“There are people,” she says carefully, “some people, who would say this is wrong.”

_Including the Bible,_ she thinks. _Maybe even including your future husband._

“You’re my sister,” Eliza says simply. “I trust you.”

She looks at Angelica, brown eyes huge and dark, and Angelica thinks, _To hell with it._

She ducks her head and brings her lips to Eliza’s, the gentlest of kisses to start her off. Eliza instantly melts into the kiss, draping her arms around Angelica’s neck. Lips on hers, soft little close-mouthed pecks, letting Eliza get used to the sensation of someone else touching her so intimately. And then suddenly Eliza’s tongue brushes against Angelica’s lips, hesitant and clumsy, and something deep within Angelica lights on fire.

Her hands on Eliza’s waist, she tugs her flush against her body and deepens the kiss, opening her mouth to Eliza’s questing tongue. Teasingly, she sucks Eliza’s lower lip into her mouth and nips it lightly; Eliza makes a tiny, pleased noise and leans fully into Angelica, but Angelica pulls back before she can completely shift her weight.

“Don’t jump ahead,” she says with a grin, and bops her sister on the nose. Eliza laughs at her words; that’s been a constant refrain said to Angelica their entire lives. “Let’s get you out of those stays.”

“And ruin all your hard work? I could never,” Eliza replies, but she’s already working on the front laces. Angelica turns her around so she can undo the back ones, repeating her earlier movements in reverse. But this time, she doesn’t worry about touching Eliza; in fact, she makes a point of it, stroking Eliza’s smooth skin through her chemise until she arches her back and sighs, leaning into the touch.

Finally, Eliza tosses the stays to the side, and tries to turn in Angelica’s arms to face her again.

“Uh-uh,” Angelica says, and boldly cups Eliza’s breasts in her hands. Eliza goes very still. “I want to show you something. May I?”

“Anything you want,” Eliza says honestly. Angelica kisses the part of her neck not covered by hair, and gently rubs her thumbs over Eliza’s nipples.

“ _Oh,_ ” Eliza whispers. She shivers and presses her back hard against Angelica’s front. “Angelica, I—“

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Angelica murmurs in her ear, and lightly pinches her nipples. She rubs little circles over them, just like she plans to do to other parts of Eliza’s anatomy later, and Eliza squirms against her, arching her back, pushing her breasts out into Angelica’s hands and _whimpering_. Such a strong reaction to such a light touch; Angelica wasn’t expecting it. And she’s less than composed herself; her own dress seems suddenly too heavy, her stays too tight. Eliza seems to notice as well, reading Angelica’s mind as easily as if it were her own.

“I think you’re wearing too much clothing,” she says decisively (though her voice trembles a bit). “That can’t be comfortable.”

“Time for _you_ to play the ladies’ maid,” Angelica says lightly, and obediently allows Eliza to do the work of pulling off the gown, wrestling with the panniers, undoing the petticoats and stays until they’re both standing there in nothing but chemises.

This is when the gravity of what they’re doing hits Angelica, and she can see the realization reflected in her sister’s eyes. But what harm can come of it, truly? There can be no child from this liaison, no evidence; nobody needs to know but them, and there is nothing more secret than one shared between sisters. And if God is watching—let Him watch. Angelica will do what she wants, and what she wants is—

Eliza flings herself at Angelica, seizing her in her arms, and says fiercely, “I want this, Angelica, I want _you_ , and don’t give me that look, I can tell when you’re overthinking something.”

“I love you,” Angelica says, helpless, and kisses her sister.

Kisses her, keeps kissing her, stroking her body through the linen, teasing her nipples to make her squirm beautifully; the only sound in the room is Angelica’s panting and the sweet little moans coming from Eliza’s mouth. She is so exquisite, her Eliza; Angelica offers a brief prayer to God in both thanks and apology for the glorious sight she gets to experience today.

“All right,” she says finally, pulling away from Eliza, who’s beginning to look a little frantic. “All right, dearest, so that’s—that’s kissing.”

“Really,” Eliza says dryly, though she’s a little out of breath, still flushed. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Let’s take these off,” Angelica suggests, ignoring her sister’s sarcasm, and plucks at the sleeve of Eliza’s chemise. “It’s time for the next lesson.”

“And when do I get to practice on you, lovely teacher?” Eliza asks as she pulls her chemise over her head, and Angelica pauses. It hadn’t occurred to her that Eliza might want—might want _her,_ to touch and taste her. Perhaps Angelica isn’t the only deviant one. Perhaps all this time—

“Soon,” she says to Eliza, and her voice quivers despite her efforts. “Soon. But you first.” She offers Eliza a half-smile. “After all, it’s your wedding we’re preparing for.”

Her words slice through the tension and fall into silence. What a time for a reminder. _Way to go, Angelica,_ she thinks to herself.

“What’s the next lesson?” Eliza asks after a tense moment of silence. Alexander’s name hangs unspoken in the air between them.

“The next lesson,” Angelica responds, taking a second to catch up, “is finding your own pleasure." 

She takes Eliza’s elbow and guides her to the couch. “Sit here. I’ll help you.”

“I’ve done this before,” Eliza protests when Angelica deposits her on the couch and nudges her knees open. “Touched myself, I mean. It felt nice, but—“

“Just you wait,” Angelica promises, and kneels before Eliza. “Just you wait.”

Angelica has done this before, too, with Lydia. She knows how to make Eliza feel good. Gently, she puts her hands on Eliza’s thighs and spreads them, revealing her sex to the open air.

Eliza is so wet Angelica can hear it when she moves, as well as see it, glistening at Eliza’s entrance and on her lips. She’s shaped differently from Lydia, her nether lips plump and fleshy where Lydia’s were neatly tucked away. Perhaps Angelica is biased, but she much prefers Eliza’s. And there, toward the top of her sex, is the little nub where a woman’s pleasure lies. Eliza’s is hidden in a delicate fold of skin, the tip just barely peeking out. Angelica will solve that problem. She nuzzles Eliza’s thigh, places a kiss at the crease where her leg meets her body, ghosts her breath over Eliza’s sex. Eliza wriggles and puts her hands on Angelica’s head. She doesn’t shove, doesn’t try to guide her; it’s simply a reassuring gesture, an _I trust you,_ a _This is right, don’t you feel it?_ The light pressure of Eliza’s hands centers Angelica, reminds her of the task at hand, of her sister’s love.

Angelica parts Eliza’s lips with her fingers, and kisses the tip of her clitoris. Lightly, very lightly; women vary between extremes when it comes to how they like to be touched, Angelica has discovered. No reaction from Eliza but a sharp inhale, so Angelica presses another, deeper kiss there, and this time flicks her tongue out to caress the nub. Eliza jerks and Angelica freezes.

“Don’t stop,” Eliza breathes, and brings Angelica’s mouth flush against her lips—to her _cunt_ , that word being much more suited for something as deliciously filthy as this: licking Eliza from bottom to top, exploring every inch of her folds with her tongue, lapping up her slick wetness, and then venturing back to her clit, swirling around the little bud until Eliza gasps and digs her nails into Angelica’s scalp. It hurts, but she welcomes the pain; it’s a sign she’s doing well. She’s wet too, pressing her thighs together rhythmically to seek some kind of stimulation. It’s not perfect, but she can wait for it.

“Don’t stop,” Eliza repeats, and then, whispering, “Oh, Angelica, don’t stop, don’t stop, I— _Angelica_ —“

Angelica is relentless, sucking and licking Eliza’s clit until Eliza’s head snaps back and her back arches hard; she slaps a hand over her mouth, but Angelica can still hear her muffled moan as Angelica licks her through her climax. Angelica only stops when Eliza’s muscles finally relax, her body going limp, one legs slung over Angelica’s shoulder.

“Oh, that was good,” she whispers, voice trembling, and then, a little louder, “That was wonderful, Angelica, I can’t thank you enough.” She strokes Angelica’s hair as she speaks, Angelica still between her knees, her face coated with Eliza’s fluids. God, she loves it; loves her sweet Eliza.

“I’m glad, dearest,” Angelica replies, and presses a kiss to her inner thigh. “But there’s one more lesson to be had.”

“What?” asks Eliza; then she goes that lovely shade of red again as she realizes. (She blushes so easily, her sister.) “Oh. That.”

Now _this_ is mostly uncharted territory for Angelica; she may have kissed the stable boy, but she’d gone no further, and Lydia had never wanted her to use her fingers inside her. But Angelica has practiced on herself, and she thinks she knows what feels good and what won’t.

“They say it hurts, the first time,” Eliza ventures. “I’ve been sc—wondering about that.”

“It doesn’t have to,” Angelica assures her. “I haven’t lain with a man, but I do know something about the practice.”

She smiles knowingly at Eliza; the look seems to arouse Eliza’s curiosity, because she leans back a little, slouching against the couch, and opens her legs invitingly.

“Are you ready?” Angelica asks. Eliza just gives her a _look,_ then reaches between her legs and—Angelica licks her lip as she watches—touches herself, smearing the mixture of her fluids and Angelica’s saliva along her lips, finally circling her clit until she shivers all over. Angelica can’t tear her eyes away; she’s vividly aware of the wetness between her own legs, dampening even her upper thighs.

“Yes,” Eliza says innocently. “I think I’m ready.”

“Good,” Angelica says, a little hoarse with her own arousal. She dives back into Eliza’s cunt, matching her pace to Eliza’s reactions. Her sister seems to want more this time, rougher, with more sucking and less licking. Angelica focuses on her clit, sucking and swirling around the tip with her tongue, all while Eliza is making the most beautiful whimpers imaginable, clutching at Angelica’s hair, her thighs trembling.

“The first one,” Angelica whispers, her tongue teasing Eliza’s entrance, and slides a finger inside her. She’s hot and velvety inside; Angelica very gently curves her finger until she finds a spot that makes Eliza writhe.

“Now the second,” she says, and introduces another finger. Eliza gasps and her hips buck against Angelica’s hand.

“Just like that,” Eliza whimpers, and repeats herself as Angelica curls her fingers again and again against that spot inside Eliza that provokes the loveliest moans Angelica’s ever heard. Her cunt is tightening and releasing spasmodically around Angelica’s fingers as Angelica returns her attentions to her clit, teasing it with small licks and kisses; she’s close. If Angelica were truly doing this with the intent of preparing her for her marriage bed, she would wait and give Eliza one more finger (the drawings she’s seen seem to indicate that’s the size of a male member), but she can’t lie to herself; Angelica’s motivation is purely selfish. She wants to be her sister’s first, wants to have this memory to share between them and cherish always. And that means giving Eliza her pleasure without worrying about accuracy. 

Angelica curls her fingers and rubs against the spot inside Eliza and sucks on her clit, and Eliza explodes. Her sister wraps her legs around her head and crushes her face into her cunt; Angelica acknowledges that she can’t breathe, and loves it, not stopping her movements until Eliza’s grip on her head loosens enough for her to pull away.

“Good?” she asks, once Eliza seems to have composed herself enough to speak. Eliza nods fervently.

“Wonderful,” she says. Angelica smiles at her, proud and pleased, and Eliza returns it. Then her smile turns wicked.

“Your turn,” she says, and Angelica is only too happy to trade places with her.

Now she’s on the couch and Eliza is on her knees, pushing her legs apart without hesitation. Angelica lets them spread, and watches Eliza’s expression as she takes a look for the first time at another woman’s sex. Wonder is written across her face as she reaches out and brushes Angelica’s lips with the pads of her fingers.

“You’re so beautiful, sister,” Eliza says softly, and without any further ado, she leans forward and places a kiss directly over Angelica’s clit; then she parts her lips and sucks Angelica’s clit into her mouth, tongue dancing along the tip. Angelica gasps, her entire body tensing like a violin bow, and instinctively spreads her legs wider to allow Eliza more room.

Eliza is unpracticed, her method crude, but she’s well attuned to Angelica’s movements and moods, and makes adjustments for each groan, twitch, and sigh Angelica makes. And oh, she’s close already, has been close since she first started licking Eliza’s cunt, the twisting white-hot pleasure building low in her gut as Eliza buries her face in her cunt, licking and sucking enthusiastically, making sweet, hungry noises as she does. And—Angelica crushes Eliza’s face against her, wrapping her thighs around her head, one hand twisting in her hair—the pleasure builds and builds and— _oh, Eliza—_

Back arched, eyes rolled back in her head, hand clamped over her mouth to muffle any noise, Angelica’s climax roars through her body with the tremendous force of a storm at sea. She spasms and twitches, and Eliza, taking her cue from Angelica, doesn’t stop. She keeps going and going, licking and sucking and occasionally nibbling on Angelica’s thigh, until—the storm builds inside Angelica again before she’s even ridden out the first wave—

“Oh!” Angelica cries out, and lightning flashes through her body. _Eliza, Eliza—_

This time, when the waves begin to fade, she gently pushes Eliza’s head away from her. Trembling, exhausted from orgasm, she scoots over to make room for Eliza on the couch nonetheless. Eliza puts her arm around her shoulders, smooths back her curls, kisses her temple.

“Was that good?” she asks hopefully, and Angelica laughs.

“You think?” she says, and Eliza’s smile turns into a grin, then into a wave of giggles; Angelica can’t help but be swept up in Eliza’s good humor, and they clutch each other and laugh, naked and still shaky. 

“Do you feel more prepared for your marriage now?” Angelica asks eventually, and if there’s a wistfulness she feels but keeps hidden, nobody needs to know.

 “Oh, certainly,” Eliza says, looping her fingers around Angelica’s. “But you know—“  

With her other hand she takes Angelica’s chin and turns her face toward her, gazing straight into her eyes. Angelica forgets, sometimes, how sharply perceptive Eliza can be.

“—you will always be my sister,” Eliza finishes.

“And you mine,” Angelica says, and pulls Eliza in for a kiss.

_Always your sister, my love. And maybe we can have this again someday._

Someday. For now, Angelica is satisfied.


End file.
